Falling
by Lunar Crystallos
Summary: After a tragic mission Alex feels like he's falling. And he wants to hit the ground.


**Trigger Warning**

**This is a fanfic, which means I'm not claiming Alex Rider. Duh.**

Alex stood out in the rain feeling the drops soak into his hair and shirt. He was cold and at some point had started to shiver, but cold and shivering was better than numb. He was staring straight ahead, determinedly attempting to not look down, scared that the water was turning red where it touched his skin. _How much blood do I have on my hands? How many people have I hurt? _He took a deep breath and attempted to force those thoughts away.

The last mission had been awful. It was a joint operation between MI6 and the CIA to track down a terrorist group in Spain. It had started out well enough, but by the second week the task force's cover had been blown and Alex and his two partners were running for their lives. His two partners, Fox and Agent Knight, were killed when protecting Alex. _Two more people who have died because of me. How many more?_

Unbidden, another thought came._ Jack. _The name sent a wave of pain rushing over him. _God, Jack. I'm so sorry. _He knew that it was his fault. If he had said no all those years ago… if he had forced her to stay in England… if he had been more careful… then she wouldn't be… then she wouldn't be…

_Then she wouldn't be dead. _The brown haired boy let out a broken gasp. He felt the despair rising up, a tidal wave that would drown him, break him in its powerful current. _I'm so sorry. _He knew that sorry wasn't enough, that it wouldn't fix anything, but the useless words still repeated over and over in his head.

Alex once again made a mental effort to stop the endless, torturous cycle of his thoughts_. _He knew that nothing good would come of his regret and that it would do nothing to justify the consequences of his mistakes. He took another shuddering breath and tried to focus on something else, anything else, the smell of the rain, the sensation of the heavy air on his skin.

The broken child looked up at the grey sky at the drops that were falling toward him. Sometimes he felt like that. Like he was falling further and further, always destined to hit the ground but not quiet there yet. For a moment Alex wondered how soon that moment would be. He wondered how soon he would go on a mission and hit that one moment where it couldn't get worse.

_Although… _perhaps that moment wouldn't, however dangerous and painful it may be, be the worst of his life. Perhaps it would even be the best moment. The moment when there was no more uncertainty about where he was going. It would be filled with the reassurance that his journey would soon end and that there would be no more. The idea was probably more alluring than was healthy. It enticed him, and the more he thought about it the more the concept appealed to him.

Almost without conscious thought an idea formed in his head. _I don't have to wait for a mission to go wrong. I could do it myself, right now. S_lowly, hesitantly, Alex's hand drifted to the gun hidden on his waist.

_One bullet. That's all it would take. I wouldn't be able to hurt anyone again, I wouldn't be able to cause any more damage. And… I wouldn't have to suffer anymore._

Alex closed his eyes. He knew he couldn't do it no matter how much he was tempted. There was no point in him dying here. Not now, not over his own selfish desires. He knew that there were better times to go, times when a sacrifice play had to be made, times when _someone _had to die to save others. That was how the world worked after all.

But still. The thought refused to go away and grew in his mind. _I could see my parents, and Ian, and Ben, and Tamara, and Jack. I could talk to them and tell them I'm so, so very sorry. I could see Jack laugh again. Even when she was still alive the stress kept her from truly laughing. I could see her be happy. I could see them all be happy._

Fingers brushed against cold metal. A tentative hand curled around it. Alex pulled the loaded gun up to his face. For a moment he stood staring at it. It was funny, in a twisted way. He hated this object, what it did, what he was forced to do with it. And yet now he was considering it as his relief, as his salvation. In a sort of deadly trance Alex put the barrel against his skull. He paused for a moment, about to pull the trigger, when reality crashed back down upon him and he froze.

He had come outside into the storm to feel alive again. To experience the cold, to feel the rain against his skin, to hear the sound of thousands of pure droplets hitting the trees, the grass, the road. To cleanse himself of the death that was clinging to his flesh. He hadn't come out here to take the easy way out, the cowards way of escaping his crimes.

Besides, even if he did die, it wouldn't really solve anything. He would still be hated by the few people left alive he cared about, and he would still be seen as nothing more than a tool by those who should have protected him. (Although he would be a broken tool, useless now.)

So Alex dropped his gun and stood still in the rain, looking straight ahead to avoid the blood that must be running off his hands. He let himself get soaked until his hair and clothes dripped, and he cried.

**Fin.**

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Hello world! This is my first fanfic, so gentle constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. (This was sort of an experiment to get used to the website, so I might take it down once I get a few multi-chapter stories up.)


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